


She Was Raining Sparks

by orphan_account



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Introspection, Navel-Gazing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-17
Updated: 2017-01-17
Packaged: 2018-09-18 03:21:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9365753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: A look into the shadows.





	

Pitch Black stared up at the moon, it's pale wavering light illuminating his face in a cold glow. Though it showed no change he could feel the emptiness behind the light. It was not the glimmer of fate and life it had once been, a thing older than him watching him and helping to create shadows along thin wintery branches, and heavy stone precipices. It was simply the moon.

  
He was alone.

  
He turned away from the light, stepping back into the familiar shadow, the creeping black that gave him his name. He could feel them everywhere. The people. Connected to him, living in his shadow. Every dark alley, every hidden corner. The small spaces, loved by secrets and sharp teeth.

  
He took a step and the shadow solidified around him, a dizzying thickening, heady, frightening. Another step and the feeling of drowning. Rushing whirling eddies of shadow poured past him, and at random he trailed his fingers into one, watching disinterestedly at the cricket creaking away quietly under the floorboard. The dark made everything beautiful. It's gleaming black carapace, and huge rounded eyes. The long, lean lines of its legs. The shrill sound of its survival. Another touch and he was in an alley. Sharp animal grunts and a quiet whimper was all he needed to glide his hand along another shadow.

  
He was the dark. And in the dark many things happened. The next shadow nuzzled up to him softly, and he watched for a few moments, a young boy clutching a red cup, standing awkwardly. Music thudded, a heavy tribal beat in the background. His green eyes were huge, and he held his cup like a lifeline.

  
Pitch Black touched the next shadow, letting this one fall away from him like nothing.

  
A young girl, no more than seven, stood at her window. It was a ragged home, the scraps of paint, many years old peeling under her fingertips. Her dark eyes were fixed intently on the sky, wavering flaring light bursting before her, reflected only in her gaze. Another step and he stood beside her. She came no higher than his knee, but her eyes...

  
He turned, and instead of the moon, he watched the huge fiery flare of a bomb bursting midflight, lighting the night sky in orange flames, bloodying the blue sky. He waved a casual hand in front of her, unsurprised at her lack of reaction. A child with this in her sky had no need of him. She had more than enough to fear.

  
He stepped away from the window, heading for the deep shadows in the corner of the room. He was not the only one abandoned by an inconsistent moon.

  
No time to dwell. He stood and slipped into the shadow, another bad dream disappearing like so much smoke.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Stand in [the shadows](honeyedlion.tumblr.com).


End file.
